


Moving Toward Hope

by alcyonenight



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 05:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11479881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcyonenight/pseuds/alcyonenight
Summary: Gladio loved food. He loved eating. If there was a problem, and there probably wasn't one, that was it.-Gladio had a problem.





	Moving Toward Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the Kink Meme:   
> "A man as built as Gladio may have one or two dietary skeletons in their closet - like possibly skipping meals in favor of more training, counting calories to an obsessive level  
> +Ignis quietly confronting Gladio because he's worried Gladio could get hurt or worse because of it"

Gladio had a toothache again.  
  
It was the third time in as many months. He didn't get it. He brushed his teeth like everybody else. He wasn't perfect about flossing, but he did it at least some of the time. And with all these visits to the dentist, he'd had a lot of cleanings...  
  
"Why are my teeth so bad?" Gladio asked the Citadel dental hygienist, who had just informed him that they were going to fill another cavity as soon as the dentist was free. "I'm here all the goddamn time."  
  
The dental hygienist hummed. "Well, sometimes it's genetic, a dry mouth or a lower saliva flow. But that would be a more lifelong issue, and your problem seems to be more recent. Have you started drinking more coffee or soda lately? They can introduce acid into your mouth and wear down the enamel. Things like acid reflux or other stomach problems can do the same thing."  
  
Suddenly, Gladio knew exactly why his teeth were so bad. "Never mind," he mumbled. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Gladio loved food. He loved eating. If there was a problem, and there probably wasn't one, that was it. Training made him so, so hungry. So he would eat. And sometimes, if it had been a bad day or if he was more tired than usual, he just... couldn't stop.  
  
Fat was useless. Something that your body carried around, not something like muscle that did something for you. And overeating led to storage of weight in fat. So if he ate too much, of course he had to make up for it, here and there. Go on a longer run. Skip dinner. Or just... puking it up.  
  
That last one was more recent. Gladio had caught a trainee Crownsguard at it a year or so ago. He'd explained that he was right between weight categories for sparring, and that it was obviously better to be the biggest guy in the middle group than the smallest guy in the upper group, so he needed to drop a few pounds before weigh-in.   
  
That wasn't exactly the same problem that Gladio had, but it was a reasonable solution.

* * *

Things didn't get better.  
  
Gladio got his own private room in the Citadel, with a minifridge and its own bathroom, when he turned eighteen. He had an allowance from the Crown every month. He spent most of it on food.  
  
He barely noticed as his circle of friends grew smaller and smaller. It was always going to be that way for a Shield, wasn't it? He would spend his life focusing on Noctis.  
  
(Gladio couldn't focus on Noctis. He couldn't focus on anything.)  
  
Ignis came over to ask about Noct's training one evening. "How did you burn your finger?" he asked.  
  
Gladio looked down at his hand. He steeled himself not to give anything away. "I don't actually know," he said. "Maybe a training accident."  
  
Ignis frowned. "You should take better care of yourself. I'm worried about you."  
  
Gladio laughed it off, because he couldn't do anything else.

* * *

Gladio had a problem. But he couldn't stop.

* * *

Training got harder and harder. Gladio felt so slow, so heavy. He was so tired. He avoided his father and only occasionally answered his sister's calls because he couldn't risk letting them see him like this. He was a failure of a Shield, a failure of a person, and it just made him want to eat again.  
  
Noctis asked why he was getting more hits these days. "I'm not that much better than I was two months ago," he said. "Are you letting me win or something? I don't want that."  
  
Gladio smiled. It hurt. "If you were better at this, you'd know why," he said. "Again."

* * *

One Friday night, there was a knock on his door right when he was about to start eating. Gladio tossed a towel over the excess food. "Yeah?"  
  
"It's Ignis."  
  
Gladio shook. After Dad and Iris, that was the last person he wanted in his room. Ignis was too smart. Noticing things was his job. "Yeah, hold on." He opened up the door and tried to smile. "What brings you here?"  
  
Ignis stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. Gladio watched him take in the room.  
  
"Gladiolus, you know why I'm here."  
  
Gladio swallowed. "Yeah. I guess I do."  
  
"May I sit?"  
  
"Sure," Gladio said. "You should probably stay away from the table, though." That would be where the worst smell was, other than the bathroom.  
  
Ignis took a seat on the couch, and gestured for Gladio to join him, but Gladio... couldn't, and sat in a chair at the table instead, sitting on it backwards to face Ignis, which probably meant something or other that he couldn't think about just then.  
  
"Will you tell me what's going on, or would you rather I guessed?" Ignis asked. There was a faint quiver in his voice. Fuck, Gladio had managed to scare Ignis.  
  
Gladio stared at the floor. "I can't stop," he mumbled. "I know it's bad, but I can't stop."  
  
Ignis drew an audible breath, but didn't speak.  
  
"I think... I think I'm really sick," Gladio continued. "My teeth are rotting, and my throat burns all the time, and I'm so slow."   
  
"And you know why you're sick?" Ignis asked.  
  
Gladio nodded. "Because I..." But he couldn't say it. "I know," he said. "I know I'm doing it to myself. I just... can't stop." He licked his lips. His mouth felt so dry, even worse than usual. "I'm scared," he admitted.  
  
"Look at me," Ignis said. It was not a request.  
  
Gladio looked up.  
  
There was no anger in the expression Ignis wore. Sadness, concern, but not anger, not judgment. "I cannot allow things to continue as they have been. If nothing changes, this will kill you. And I... I don't want you to die."  
  
Gladio's vision blurred. He tried to blink tears away. He could feel his heart beating in his throat. "What are you going to do?" he asked, imagining Iris being sworn in as the Prince's Shield in his place, going home to his disappointed father, never seeing Noctis again, never seeing Ignis again.  
  
Ignis took a deep breath. "My proposal is that you come with me to my rooms for the evening, and in the morning, we book an appointment with the Citadel doctors to discuss this with a medical professional."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"I don't know," Ignis said.   
  
Gladio was surprised enough that, somehow, it made him relax.  
  
"We have grown up in His Highness's service together, Gladiolus. You are the only other person who can understand that experience. And it is selfish of me, but I wish for you to remain with me at the Prince's side."   
  
"Oh," Gladio said. His vision blurred with tears again, and this time, it was too much to hold them back. For the first time in years, he let himself cry.  
  
Ignis rose to his feet and rested a hand on Gladio's back, rubbing gentle circles until the hitching sobs ended.  
  
For a few minutes they sat in silence. Gladio wiped at his eyes. "Sorry," he muttered.  
  
Ignis shook his head. "Please don't be sorry about that," he said. "Now... will you come with me?"  
  
"Yeah." Gladio stood up. "Okay."


End file.
